here
Yelena’s sitting on the colorful carpet in Moth’s office, staring at the clock on the wall as she rests her chin on her knees that are pulled up to her chest. Moth is quiet, the only sound in the room was the scribbling noise of crayons as Moth doodles on pieces of paper. She’d invited Yelena to join her but Yelena instead choses to focus on the clock.
This session was double as long as her previous ones but only because Skye wasn’t before her this time and Yelena wasn’t even supposed to have a session. This was all about what had happened and what she did concerning the mission but Yelena didn’t really want to talk about that.
And Moth didn’t force her.
Bobbi is leaning against the wall, tapping away on her phone, her focus entirely on the electronic in her hand.
Yelena’s eyes flicker between Bobbi and the clock before glancing over at Moth. Moth is coloring the sky in her picture a silvery-blue.
Yelena is desperate to prove that she’ll listen from now on. “I had a nightmare last night.”
Moth glances up at her and Yelena resists the urge to curl into a tight ball at her stare. “Would you like to talk about it?”
Yelena shakes her head slightly, tapping her fingers on her knees. “I didn’t recognize Natasha when I woke up.”
Moth sets down her crayon, her full attention on Yelena. “You must have been very frightened.” She comments.
“I tried that thing you showed me. The thing with the paint chips,” Yelena comments, glancing away from Moth to stare up at the clock again. “I picked the color blue. I had a hard time finding things that were now and not in my head. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do. Do you think that it helped you calm down?” Moth inquired and Yelena tucks her lower lip between her teeth to chew on it anxiously.
“I dunno.” Yelena murmurs quietly.
“That’s all right. I’m very proud of you for trying, even if it may not have worked,” Moth says and Yelena glances back at her. “During your next session, we can work on building your grounding box, just as we planned.”
Yelena falls quiet again and Moth follows suit, turning her attention back to the picture she was coloring.
Yelena focuses on the clock again. There was clock similar to that one in the infirmary in the Red Room. After her hysterectomy, Yelena had laid in bed, listening to the clock tick for hours at a time because she had nothing else to do.
Yelena then remembers the big grandfather clock that say in the living room in Ohio. It didn’t work after Alexei put his fist through it in a fit of rage but Yelena, when she was very very small, could open the front and climb inside. She would be squished tightly but she felt safe inside the tiny space.
Hiding when she got scared was what she used to do. She didn’t have many opportunities to hide while in the Red Room.
Natasha taught her how to hide in hide and seek. She showed Yelena how to climb trees to hide up above and shimmy on her tummy to wedge in the small space under the bed.
Hands fall onto her shoulders and Yelena jerks away from them, kicking her foot out to shove them away. Yelena scrambles backward, her hand landing on something sharp. Yelena’s eyes peers up at Bobbi, sprawled backward after Yelena planted a foot firmly against her chest and shoved.
Yelena hadn’t meant to hurt her. She just got startled. She got lost in her head again, once again thinking about Ohio. “Bobbi?”
“It’s alright, kiddo,” Bobbi grunts out, rubbing her sternum with her knuckles. “You have legs of steel.”
Yelena swallowed hard. “You startled me.” She said quietly, unsure if Bobbi would be okay with her approaching. “I’m sorry.”
“You were lost in your mind, hmm?” Moth comments and Yelena shrinks in on herself in shame. “Do you think we can talk about it?”
Yelena swallows hard as Bobbi pulls herself to her feet. “The first time I got hit, I was six.” Yelena whispers. “It was because I was crying. They told me to stop crying or they’d kill me.”
“Do you think about being six a lot?” Moth inquired and Yelena brings her thumb up to her mouth to run along a tiny scar on her lower lip.
“A lot happened when I was six…” Yelena tells Moth before glancing up at the clock again. “I think that was when my life ended.”
“What is one thing you remember most about being six?” Moth asks her.
“Being scared.” Yelena lived in constant fear ever since leaving that house in Ohio to go on a ‘big adventure’.
“Can you think of a happy memory of being six?” Moth questions, tilting her head to the side curiously.
Yelena thinks about the backyard where she spent hours playing with her big sister. “There were cherry blossom trees in the backyard. And a swingset. And late at night in the summer, there were fireflies that came out.”
Moth pulls a clean sheet of paper off the top of the stack and sets it down. “Do you think you could draw it for me?”
Yelena’s not good at art. She never needed to be. But she still hesitantly scoots closer to the tiny table and stares at the blank sheet before picking up a pink crayon, hovering it over the clean white paper before slowly pressing it down.
She draws the swingset. She draws the row of cherry blossom trees slowly losing their petals and the fireflies that flickered around them. She draws the backbends she and Natasha used to do.
Yelena leaves nothing on the paper white. She focuses intently on the drawing as she twists her hand to softly color in the blank space without leaving clumps of crayon behind on the page.
When Yelena finishes, she pushes the paper back toward Moth and focuses on organizing the crayons by color, feeling the need to leave no mess behind. Widows were neat. They were clean. They were organized.
“This is a very lovely picture, Yelena,” Moth compliments, picking the sheet of paper up. “Do you know what an artist does with their works?”
Yelena frowns, shaking her head.
“They sign them. Do you think you could sign this one?” Moth asked, gently setting the piece of paper back in front of Yelena.
Yelena looks down at the picture before her, licking her lips before shaking her head. “No.”
“No?” Moth echoes, although she doesn’t sound upset. “Why not?”
“That would be sloppy. Widows leave behind no evidence. No trace.” Yelena explains quietly.
Moth lets out a small hum. “I see. Alright. Bobbi, if you would join us please.”
Yelena glances up as the tall woman sinks to her knees beside Yelena at the tiny table. Moth turns and pulls a colored bin out, pulling the lid off and reaching inside. She pulls out a bottle of black paint and then she pulls out a paintbrush.
Moth sets a clean sheet of paper down onto the table and asks Bobbi for her hand. Yelena watches as Moth squirts a small bit of black paint onto the palm of Bobbi’s hand and then spreads it over her palm and fingers evenly. Moth then twists Bobbi’s hand and pressed it down onto the sheet of paper. When Bobbi pulls her hand away, there is a perfect handprint left on the center of the sheet of paper. Yelena can make out the loops of Bobbi’s fingerprints in the stamp of her hand.
Moth offers Bobbi a wipe to clean her hand off and then asks Bobbi to sign the piece of paper. Yelena watches as BARBARA MORSE is scrawled along the bottom of the page in Bobbi’s loopy handwriting.
Moth then asks Bobbi to help Yelena do the same thing.
Yelena nearly jolts away when Bobbi extends her hand toward Yelena but the woman merely waits, offering Yelena a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, kiddo. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”
Yelena keeps glancing between Moth and Bobbi before glancing up at the clock. She finally reaches her hand out and sets it into Bobbi’s.
Yelena can’t help but flinch as the black paint touches the palm of her hand. It’s cold and gelatinous, a texture that Yelena very much does not like. Bobbi spreads the paint thinly over her hand with the paintbrush and Moth sets a new piece of paper out.
Bobbi presses her hand onto the paper, pressing down firmly before letting Yelena pull her hand away. Yelena’s left staring at the piece of paper as Bobbi wipes the paint from her hands.
Moth holds out a chunky bright purple marker. “I want you to write ‘I AM HERE’.”
Yelena reaches out slowly for the marker. “In English?” She asked quietly.
“In whatever language you want,” Moth tells her and Yelena slowly uncaps the marker, the scent of alcohol wafting up as she holds the marker out to the page. Slowly, in tiny Russian letters, Yelena carefully prints out ‘I AM HERE’.
“Very good,” Moth is smiling at her. “Now I want you to write: I am a person.”
The paint is already starting to dry out as Yelena carefully scrawls out the words.
“Brilliantly done, Yelena,” Moth praised. “You’re doing wonderfully. Now, only a few more things. Next, I want you to write: It is okay to exist.”
Yelena slowly starts it but pauses at the last word, unsure of how to spell it. Bobbi leans over and whispers the spelling into her ear and Yelena copies it down onto the paper.
“Two more things,” Moth starts, watching them. “I want you to write: I am Yelena Belova.”
Yelena gets the first two words down before pausing. Bobbi squeezes her knee comfortingly and Yelena slowly spells out her first name. She then quickly scribbles out her last name before she loses her nerve.
“Last one.” Moth promised. “I want you to write: I am loved.”
Yelena’s hand, poised to write, pauses at the words. “I am loved?” She repeats quietly.
“I am loved,” Moth nods her head and Yelena slowly prints the words out onto the sheet of paper. “Wonderful. Can you read back to me what you wrote?”
Yelena swallows hard, peering down t the paper. “I am here. I am a person. It is okay to exist. I am Yelena Belova. I am loved.”
“Those are five things that I want you to remember,” Moth tells her. “It is okay to start living your life. Maybe it feels wrong or maybe you’re just waiting for someone to come and take it all away again. But you are Yelena Belova. You are a person who is loved very much and you are here in the present.”
“I am Yelena Belova.” Yelena echoes quietly.
“You are,” Moth gives her a smile. “And Yelena Belova is a wonderful person to be.”
Later on, long after the paint has dried and is no longer wet, Yelena folds the paper up into the smallest square she can and shoves it into her drawer with Captain, her flags, and the notes from Carol.
That’s where she kept her important things.